Five Nights in Hell
by AnimeVikki32
Summary: Freddy Fazbear's goes worldwide! One morning Lestrade receives a call concerning the violent death of the pizzeria's night guard, Mike Schmidt, a man who was forcefully stuffed inside one of the animatronic suits. It looks like Sherlock Holmes is on the case. However, when a freak accident causes he and John to be trapped at the crime scene, will the super sleuths get out alive?


**So I know this probably sounds like the weirdest crossover ever, but I really like both Sherlock and Five Nights at Freddy's and I figured...Why not?**

 **One thing about this, though, is that it doesn't take place in one specific game, the restaurant in Baker Street takes aspects from the first three games, the lights, doors, Freddy Head Mask, and the air ventilation vents, to name some specifics.**

 **Disclaimer : I do not own either Sherlock or Five Nights at Freddy's. Both belong to their rightful owners. I'm just a fan :)**

Full Summary

After the success of the American pizzeria "Freddy Fazbear's Pizza", the company's owners decided to take the franchise worldwide. Not long after a store opens in London near Baker Street, who else but Sherlock Holmes receives a call from D.I Lestrade saying that the pizzera's night guard had been brutally murdered, stone dead bleeding profusely inside a mechanically fitted animatronic suit. When a freak accident causes the duo to wind up trapped in the pizzeria for five days straight, will Sherlock and John crack the case and uncover the horrid secrets behind the nightmarish restaurant? Or will the murderous secret of Freddy Fazbear die with them?

Chapter One

It was supposed to be just another day in 221B Baker Street. Sherlock was stamping around the flat as usual, performing experiments in the kitchen, shooting guns at the walls out of boredom because the last case he'd had only took him half a day to solve and that was as far back as yesterday. John had only been awake for an hour and a half and he had already experienced enough Sherlock Holmes to fill his daily quota. It was just as John had wished desperately for a case that his prayer was answered. At about noon a ring of the doorbell had revealed Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade on the duo's doorstep.

"Sherlock!" He called stepping into the room as John let him into the flat "Sherlock, we've got a case! I really think you're gonna want this one!" Sherlock in all his natural grace swooped into the living room at the sound of the D.I's voice.

"A case! Fantastic! Who what where when why? Give me the details!"

"He's been a little jumpy this morning."

"Oh, use your brain, John! Jumpy? I haven't been jumpy! Surely there's a better adjective you could use than that! Jumpy implies the dull impatience of a child who has eaten too much candy. I am more -"

"I wouldn't let him have any tobacco, either. No cigarettes, no nicotine patches. Though, that's been the least of our worries because he's been filling our walls full of bullet holes to pass the time instead."

"Oh, shut up, John! Let Lestrade give me the details of the case!" Lestrade sighed and shot Sherlock a look.

"Well, let's go inside, then, and I'll give them to you."

The three were sitting on the couch in the living room of 221B a few moments later, with Lestrade sitting in the client's chair, looking periodically at Sherlock and John as he rattled off the details.

"Well, as you know, that new family restaurant Freddy Fazbear's Pizza just opened up in town a few months ago. The -"

"What restaurant?" Sherlock asked abruptly.

"The restaurant a few streets over. It's one of those pizzerias with food, games, and entertainment for young children." John begrudgingly answered.

"Well, why have I never heard of it?"

"Probably because you're too busy catching criminals and shooting up Mrs. Hudson's walls to care. Lestrade?" Lestrade nodded to John.

"Thank-you. As I was saying, the restaurant features singing and dancing animatronics to entertain the kids. Early this morning we got a call in from someone named Kyle Yerlis. He said that he was scheduled to work the day shift as a security guard at Freddy Fazbear's. His shift begins at six am, every Monday, Tuesday, and Saturday. When he walked into his shift this morning, he claimed that one of his co-workers was missing."

Sherlock interrupted once more "It was the guard who had worked the night shift that night. Obvious." Lestrade nodded at Sherlock and continued.

"Exactly, but that's not all. The night guard who had worked that night was a middle-aged man named Mike Schmidt. Kyle said that he went straight into the security office to clock in when he noticed that Schmidt wasn't in the office. He was the only night guard on duty, and Kyle became suspicious as soon as he walked around the restaurant and noticed that Schmidt wasn't anywhere in the building, as it's against the rules for a guard to leave before the next guy comes in to take over. We got the call around twenty after six and came straight down to check it out. At first we thought he was maybe just paranoid, so we called the cell number Kyle gave us, and Schmidt never picked up. We didn't have any other pressing cases at the time, so we drove down to check it out. The first thing we did upon arriving was recheck the building, and you'll never guess what we found."

"And what would that be?" John asked.

"Mike Schmidt had been forcefully stuffed into one of the electronically fitted animal suits, blood and mucus dripping out of all the costumes openings, eyeballs, organs, and everything. He was almost unrecognizable. We had discovered that he had been dead since about 4am, about two hours earlier."

"So then why do you need me? Run the fingerprints on the suit with those of all the employees and arrest the match. Check the security feed from that night if you need solid proof."

"Well, that's just it, Sherlock. There were no fingerprints. We dusted the whole room. There wasn't a single fingerprint inside that whole area that wasn't Schmidt's."

"Well, then it was suicide, right?"

"John, don't be stupid." Sherlock countered, "If Schmidt had really been stuffed that forcefully inside that suit there's no way he could do that much damage to his own body, in that manner, by himself. No, he had help from someone else."

"Lestrade, what about the security feed?" John asked.

"It's gone." Sherlock turned and scoffed at the detective inspector.

"What do you mean it's gone?"

"I mean we asked for it- and they said that they'd lost it. That one of their guys had misplaced it."

"But that's impossible!" John broke in "If what you say is correct then the only three people who could have come in contact with that video feed are Schmidt himself, Kyle, and the killer. If that murder took place last night then there's no way anyone else would have had time to get in there and take it. It's just not possible."

"Well, that's what I said. And, it's why I came to see you and Sherlock. I knew there was something fishier going on here than a simple murder, and I thought I'd need your help."

Sherlock got up off his chair and began pacing around the flat, hands together in front of his face as was typical of him when he was thinking. After several moments of this he stopped abruptly and turned in a flash to face Lestrade once more. As if on cue, John and Lestrade stood up immediately, almost at attention from years of practically catering to the detective's every intellectual whim.

"Thank-you, Lestrade, this case seems to have many particulars about it that make it most intriguing. If you will lead me to the crime scene, I will begin investigating immediately."


End file.
